


Vague

by cynognathus



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, give me advice on characterization thx, one night stand or, wrote this descriptiom very frazzled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynognathus/pseuds/cynognathus
Summary: It's from a note on my phone and hella ??
John is visiting NYC, with his bros when he spots someone he'd like to get to know at the bar.





	

They met in a small bar tucked away in a back alley, endearingly called "The Hole in The Wall." Alexander had probably seen him first, tanned skin and boisterously heckling his friends. 

It was about a week post Hurricane Sandy and Alexander, along with drowning his liver, was craving some sort of human interaction to ground him again (his head often floated around at the bar, the Christmas lights strung above fuzzy in his vision). 

Alexander looked over at the group as he heard them raising a racket. He noted distantly that wow, the group in general was attractive. Large men who were visibly muscled, with tanned skin, smiles on their faces and beers in hand. Yet he was enraptured with one, who upon closer inspection had freckles spattered across said tanned skin (god fucking damn it). He quickly downed his shot (whiskey, neat). 

"Can I get your next round?" Freckles had approached the bar, Alexander heard hollers from the group of men ("Get it Laurens!" "Cmon man!")

"Only if you'll sit next to me," Alexander found himself replying, "And I can get your next... beer?" He wrinkled his nose. 

Freckles laughed. "It's my first time in New York, I have to try the local craft," he protested with jest, but took the stool next to Alexander. "I'm John," he offered his hand. 

Alexander took it and introduced himself, allowing the contact to linger. "First time in NYC? One, you're in this dump. And two, where are you from?"

John flagged down the bartender, placing their order. "Yeah, I'm from South Carolina. Never made it this far north, but I'm really enjoying it. Especially since there are some particularly attractive people here."

Drinks were deposited in front of them, Alexander fiddled with the coaster. He leaned minutely closer to John. "Seems like you run with attractive company, so I would think you'd be used to it." 

John choked on the sip of beer, placing a hand over Alexander's, "Oh god no, they're like my brothers."

Alexander considered his options, looking at John. "How long are you in NYC?"

"We're not sure yet, our spikes vary. But we're here for some disaster relief- with Sandy."

Hamilton raised an eyebrow, "So you're working?" 

John's face pulled up into a smile, the right corner a smidge higher. "Yeah, have you ever heard of the N triple C?" 

"No, never," Alexander threw back his shot, "Maybe you can explain it to me later. I'm not one for subtleties, so if you wanna fuck then come on."

Alexander pushed away from the bar and out the door. He paused, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Soon John stumbled out of the bar after him, whoops and shouts muffled behind the door. 

"Where to?" he shrugged with a grin. Alexander took a drag (one two three), again considering his options. 

"If you promise you aren't a serial murderer, my place, let's go," Alexander turned on his heel, going without checking if John was following. 

John caught up in a few seconds, shouldering up next to Alexander, his phone out, sending a message. 

"Bragging?" Alexander inquired. 

"No! I mean, not that I wouldn't? But um, anyway. No. I just have something I would describe as... a mild curfew. I just needed to check in with my team lead," John explained, bumping elbows with him. 

"What the fuck type of job... you're not under 18 are you?"

"No I'm 22... what about you?"  
"Okay cool. 21."

They walked quietly. Alexander had managed to loop his arm through John's, weaving them between streets (in case John was in fact a serial murderer). 

Alex wound them around until he got to the front of his apartment, letting go of John to unlock the door. They trudged up four flights of steps (no elevator, but the old building was somehow passing in codes), Alex twisting the apartment key a few times, shoving up against the door to try and open it (always jammed). 

Once he had managed and entered, he held the door for John who lingered in the threshold. Alexander raised an eyebrow.   
John rubbed the back of his head, hair cut short. "It's okay?"

Alexander guffawed, grabbing John's arm and pulling him in, "I didn't just show you where I live for no good reason," he shut the door. "... are you okay?"

His answer came in the form of being pinned against the wall, John's mouth pressing roughly against his own. 

"Okay chill one second," Alexander pushed at John's chest (solid to the touch), clicked the lock to the front door, "I don't exactly want to be exposed to my housemates." He placed a kiss on the side of John's mouth nonetheless, carding his hands against the short crop of John's hair. 

Alexander moved down the hallway, pausing at the second door on the right, unlocking it, "Welcome to my humble abode, sorry there's shit everywhere. Not literal shit, but you know. Shit," Alexander could feel himself rambling a little, nervous about the state of his room- mattress on the floor with no bed frame, books and textbooks stacked around the room (two piles served as a makeshift desk for his computer), a clipboard held his latest prose. Pens scattered around and a floor lamp in the corner. "I've only been here about a year now, my previous place ended up being foreclosed and all tenants were forced out."

John seemed to sense his nervousness and rambling excuses. "Take what you can get- I definitely feel that. You're talking to someone who is living out of a bag, usually sleeping on a cot. So a mattress is a step up."

"Seriously what the fuck type of job," Alexander had shut the door and made his way over to John, preventing an answer by kissing him. He started unbuttoning John's shirt, "This is okay?"

John hummed, playing a bit with Alexander's hair before stepping back to remove his own shirt (he was right, toned as hell, and a small farmer's tan).   
Alexander quickly pulled off his own T-shirt, his hair coming fully loose to lay haphazardly past his shoulders. He thought he heard a slight hitch in John's breath, but automatically began to pull his hair back up into a bun. 

John grabbed his wrist, "Can you... leave it down?" He looked slightly embarrassed. "It's kinda hot down."

"Only 'kinda'?" Alexander teased, but let go of the bun in favor of pushing John to the bed. 

\---  
John considered himself a light sleeper, but when he woke up (it took him a minute to return to himself, where was he, NYC, the bar, Alexander-) Alexander was sitting up, leaning against the mattress to use his laptop, sipping a cup of coffee. His hair was still loose, John smiled. 

"You been up for long? Sorry if you didn't want me to stay..." John too sat up, chancing the moment run his hands through Alexander's hair. He leaned into the touch, turning slightly (god he had beautiful eyes). 

"You're a special case, my dear Laurens."   
Laurens? "How..."  
"Your jacket has your name sewn in, are you sure you're 22? And your friends last night," Alexander gave a cheeky smile, taking another sip of coffee. 

"You kinda are an asshole."

"Just like I'm kinda hot. And kinda 'beautiful, with dark eyes and oh my god do that thing again with your mouth-" Alexander pitched his voice higher towards the end, effectively teasing John who turned a bright red. 

"Great now you've proved yourself to be a true asshole." Alexander only hummed around the rim of his coffee, offering it to John who took it for a sip. "Though you are hospitable, I'll give you that. You do this often?" John ventured. "No judgement, I'm just curious." 

Alexander froze a minute. "Sometimes..." he answered truthfully. "But more so when I get... I don't know. Anxious?" Alexander shifted uncomfortably, jittery with being so genuinely open. John pet his hair, humming. 

"Anything... in particular happen recently. I mean, besides the hurricane. That seems pretty self explanatory. "

Alexander huffed darkly. John watched as Alex got up, shuffling through a backpack and returning with a brush. "Might as well make yourself useful," he tossed it to John, and settled back on the floor between John's knees. "Thanks. It's a long story? But essentially it is the hurricane. A sort of... PTSD I guess." John nodded even though Alexander would be unable to see him, brushing through his hair. "I'm from the Virgin Islands, immigrated there when I was young. " John put aside the comb, taking the hair into his hands. "There was this big tropical storm turned hurricane. I mean, I'm cool with it now, I lost everything and went through a rough patch, was able to move up here to New York. Where I thought it was too cold for hurricanes? Apparently not. Stirred up some stuff I guess," Alexander hedged, glossing over the details. 

John hummed again, "You have a hair tie?" Alexander offered the one around his wrist, then ran his head after John patted it. A French braid. "I have sisters," John supplied and Alexander could hear the shrug in his voice. Alexander nodded, feeling himself unwind from a coil he didn't know was inside of him. He was so used to people immediately soothing him or pressing for more information...

"I'm not the type to- you know. Emotionally unload for a potentially one night stand," he continued, now slightly uncomfortable with the silence. 

"So... are you looking to make it something more?" John flopped onto his stomach, resting his head in his arms. Alexander scooted around, leaning one elbow on the mattress. 

He frowned, "I like you." An admission that didn't help sooth the way his stomach was doing flips at John's smile. "And don't get me wrong, but if you're some sort of... humanitarian worker?"

"Kinda."

"Seems like you aren't in one place for a long time."

"Well... you're right on that..." John conceded, "But my service year is exactly that- a year. And we don't have to have something solid. Just a phone number."

"Just a phone number," Alexander unplugged his phone for the wall, John dictating his number. 

"And I'll still be here in the foreseeable future. Lots of houses to gut, but also lots of chances where maybe I can take you out...?" John had flipped over to his back, looking up at the ceiling. Which probably wasn't that particularly interesting, Alexander decided, and so leaned over him.   
A chaste kiss. "I think we can give it a shot."


End file.
